


(Make Me Feel) Whole Again

by starchase



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consentacles, M/M, Romance, creature of the deep, everything here is good and sweet, growing closer, just a hint though, not evil!Ardyn, octoboy prompto, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 02:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starchase/pseuds/starchase
Summary: Sometime during his eternal wandering of the world Ardyn begins to hear rumours and whispers, tales about a fearsome monster in the depths of the sea. With nothing better to do, he feels inclined to investigate these rumours for himself, find the source of the increasingly outlandish tales. What Ardyn finds, however, is the last thing he might have expected.





	(Make Me Feel) Whole Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the ffxv kink meme, and everything here is sweet and romantic and entirely consensual. This is a non-evil Ardyn, no bad touches here to see. Just a somewhat tired and cynical immortal, as he wanders the world for things to do.
> 
> Special thanks to Mari, who willingly reads the weird stuff I send her, your encouragement (?) is invaluable!

Ardyn decides that he has to investigate. What else is there for him to do, after all? Nothing pressing, to be sure, and he's been bored beyond belief for decades now.

But over the past some years he's heard the same rumours and tales, from various cities and cultures and places. Of course, it always changes somewhat in the telling, as these things do. Sometimes, it's a big and fearsome monster from the deep, consuming innocent children/babies/virgins. Sometimes it's a sad and haunting wailing, luring people into treacherous seas with the desire to comfort the lost soul. But it all boils down to: a monster in the sea.  
  
It's piqued Ardyn's interest, though. In the millennia he's spent walking the places of Eos, he's yet to see anything quite like these rumours describe. It sounds something straight from the myths and legends he used to adore as a child. So why not, he figures.  
  
He starts by asking questions, tries to find out more specifics, tries to find the possible nugget of truth hidden beneath years and countless retelling. Because, in Ardyn's experience over his many years, there usually is, even just a small element of truth to some stories. Why, there's still a rumour that he started, centuries ago, that floats around and re-emerges every now and again. The actual truth of the matter is miniscule now, in comparison to how outlandish the tale has grown. It kept Ardyn amused for a full half century, though.  
  
So he searches, for that nugget, for a starting point. It takes him some time – years have become somewhat meaningless to him by now - but in the end, he narrows things down to a stretch of coast, and a large cove on an island some way out from land. This, most of the people he's spoken to, seems to be the agreed upon area where all the encounters and sightings have taken place.  
  
There's a small outpost nearby, a fishing shack, and Ardyn enquires from the proprietor about these legends. For his part, the shopkeeper is more than happy to tell Ardyn all he knows.  
  
“Saw it myself,” he says, looking Ardyn over a little curiously. “Never believed it before, either. Until that night.”

It takes only the merest of proverbial pushes, and Ardyn is treated to the tale in full. He's assured, with an oath upon the Astrals (and Ardyn has a lot to say about _them_ , but that's neither here nor there) that what he's about to tell Ardyn is all true.

“I was night fishing,” the shopkeeper begins, settles into the temporary role of story teller – infinitely more interesting, Ardyn thinks - “everything was dead quiet. Just me and my boat. I was in the middle of reeling in a beauty of a beast, when I heard it. Sends shivers down my spine just to think of it now. Never heard a person or an animal make a sound like it, before. A sort of, wailing scream?” The man shudders, as he remembers. “Then I saw a shadow, moving in the darkness. Heard a splash of water, and knew I had to get back to shore quick. Whatever it was, I knew I didn't want it to catch up with me.”  
  
“A truly chilling encounter,” Ardyn says, though he's busy thinking to himself how there's probably no amount of money he can offer to get this man to row him out to the island, even in the broad light of day. How he hates labouring for things himself.  
  
But, Ardyn is stubborn, and he's come too far now, he has to satisfy his curiosity. So he offers the shopkeeper money to borrow the boat, and finds himself soon rowing across the, thankfully calm, waves, towards the small island, and the dark cove. If anything truly is out there, Ardyn's expecting it to be an unusually large fish, or some other creature, something normal, and all the idiots rushing too and fro across this accursed planet are simply too stupid to realise that. Too easy to believe in things they don't understand, or cannot see. Unwilling to think even a little critically about something.  
  
Ah, he's in one of those moods, he realises, as he's halfway to the island. One of his 'sick of humanity' moods. They come and go, in waves, across decades or centuries. It's been some time since the last one, so really, he's not surprised. He's been sick of everything, at least once, throughout the course of his unnaturally prolonged life. A great, cosmic joke, at his own expense.

Well, whatever truth he finds here, what ever the tiny nugget that built this mountain of legend, he may find on this island, at least the discovery of it will have helped pass some of the time for Ardyn and he'll probably be grateful for that later. In as much as Ardyn ever really feels grateful for anything. Not a trait he was ever known for, really.  
  
Gods, but this is boring, he thinks, grunting now with the effort of rowing. Physical labour has never been one of his strong points, either. It's curiosity, a need to see things through, that drives him across the waves, more so than the strength in his arms.

It's with a quiet sigh of relief, as Ardyn pulls the boat onto the small, sandy shore of the island, some time later. It looks much, much closer than it actually was. He stands there, breathing a little heavier than usual, as he surveys the island. A long bar of sand takes up one side of it, before it turns rocky nearer the mouth of the cove. A few large boulders jut up from the shallow waters here, too. There's some small, scrubby brush and trees, down near the opposite end, too. Clearly uninhabited by man and beast alike, there's little to offer here.  
  
After catching his breath – though Ardyn isn't like to admit that fact – he takes better stock of his surroundings, investigates the sheltered cove, almost a shallow cave, really, he discovers; wonders through the scrubby brush, finds a surprising offering of fruit, growing from some of the trees, before he finds himself wondering, is this all? All those rumours and tales, of lost loved ones, of inhuman wailing, all leading to this little island of nothing?  
  
Well, he's learnt to be a patient man over his many, many years. He settles himself to wait, and to see.  
  
As the day wanes and evening descends, Ardyn wiles away the hours by reciting his favourite poetry in his thoughts, eating some of the small bounty the island has to offer, and generally finding himself exceptionally bored. When night has fully cloaked itself around him, he realises how dark it truly is, out here. Humanity is distant lights across the water. Ideal, really.  
  
He makes no move to light a fire, he doesn't want to disturb any chance of discovering the source of all these stories. Darkness suits him, anyway, he thinks. Brings out his best side.  
  
It's deep in the night, when a sound eventually disturbs the otherwise stillness around him. A ripple in the water. A soft splash. Something emerging, perhaps? Ardyn reminds himself that it's likely to be any number of regular sea creatures. Something entirely mundane, he's sure. Even so, he stands from the sand, lightly brushes some from his coat, and makes his way quietly over towards the cove.

The small waves in the water settle soon, so nothing as large as the tales led him to believe. Not that Ardyn had believed them anyway. In his experience, disappearing loved ones usually meant running away, or an unfortunate accident. And the world would be much depleted of future generations, if the amount of kidnapped or sacrificed virgins were real. Still, there's that thread of curiosity tugging him forward.  
  
As he approaches, tries to be as quiet as possible, with his boots across the sandy earth, he hears an unexpected sound. Almost human. Like a sigh. There's a wet slapping sound, to follow. He rounds the corner, faces the entrance to the shallow cove. The shadows are deep, inside, though after his study earlier, Ardyn knows there's a large, almost flat-topped rock in the middle surrounded by shallow water. There's a rocky ground, further at the back as well.  
  
The moon is almost full this night, and gives just enough light for Ardyn to see the suggestion of things. He thinks to himself, this is probably how all stories begin, if they aren't the ones fabricated entirely by himself. Someone seeing something, vaguely, in the play between shadows and light. What he thinks he sees, cannot be quite right, as his eyes adjust to the darkness within the cove.

What he hopes for, is some unimaginable beast, a creature never before seen, having risen from the depths, bloodthirsty and hungry for mortal flesh, wicked teeth and a cold mind. What he expects, is perhaps an overly large crab, or a fish being drawn, tragically, into the shallow waters of the cove, against its will.  
  
What he gets, is neither of those things.  
  
At first, all he can make out is the vague shape of something...something with many legs, he thinks, as he watches dark shadows move and wriggle from and against the even deeper shadow of the rock it's perched upon. A squid, perhaps? There's the soft, wet slap of flesh against rock, every time a shadow flicks. There definitely have been tales of monstrous squids, grown to such proportions as to outsize all other creatures imaginable, but in stories, they always seem to consume boats and sailors, not lounge around on rocks in caves. That, and from what Ardyn can vaguely make out, this is nowhere near as large in stature.  
  
As his eyes travel up, desperately trying to see what he can, with what light he has to go by – he's got a fire spell ready, when he needs it, but not yet, not yet – he finds himself first taken by surprise, and then confused. The many arms still remain, Ardyn hears them, as well as sees their suggestions, but above it, he's half sure he sees the torso of a human. There look to be arms, two of them, as expected. Shoulders. A head. Another sigh, and now it sounds most definitely human-like.  
  
Ardyn finds himself filled with the desire to see. He has to know.  
  
Gently, he brings his fire spell to life, the smallest, faintest flame that he can, cradled lightly in one of his hands. He raises it to his face, and looks to the creature on the rock. Softly, Ardyn says to himself, “Oh, my.”

As the small light fills in the darkness, Ardyn sees. The first thing he can't help but think to himself is: _Octopus, not squid,_ as his eyes take in those eight, lazily wriggling tentacles. As his gaze travels upwards, the pale grey of the tentacles meets with the pale pink of human skin. A man, he notes, as he takes in the naked human torso, slim, with lines of lean muscle. It's the face though, that really takes Ardyn by surprise.  
  
The sweet face of a boy. Young man, really, Ardyn internally corrects himself; just because most people feel like children in comparison to his own age, doesn't mean that everyone is.  
  
He's staring a little, but really, he can't help it. Of all the things, Ardyn really never could have expected this. But the creature – the boy – the man, is looking back at Ardyn, his blue eyes wide and round, surprised, although caution sets his jaw. Those blue eyes are nestled amongst one of the sweetest faces Ardyn has ever laid eyes upon, pale skin dusted with freckles, blond hair somewhat messily framing the sides of his face. If it wasn't such an important moment, one that Ardyn truly didn't wish to break, he would have laughed. Because all of those stories, monsters kidnapping virgins, beasts eating children, and this is what he finds, a creature, a young man, who looks as if he wouldn't even hurt a goldfish.  
  
Because, Ardyn's very good at reading people, when he cares enough to do so, and he can see clearly, he can feel, that this man is the opposite of him: good and kind.  
  
Eventually, Ardyn makes himself speak, though for once, he's taking this all very seriously, considering every movement, weighing each word before speaking, because he doesn't want to frighten this man away with his usual, flippant behaviour. This, he thinks, is possibly the most interesting person he will ever meet, across all the endless millennia of his life, and he'd rather like more than these few scant seconds. There's so much he wants to _know_. Patience, he tells himself.  
  
“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” he begins, makes himself sound casual and easy. “I didn't mean to intrude. I thought this island was unoccupied.” He takes off his hat, offers the man a slight bow.  
  
The young man still looks at him in surprise, but there's curiosity there, too. If no tales have ever been told about this hybrid creature before, then, Ardyn can only assume he's never _met_ any humans, perhaps? Still, he shows a good sense of caution, in the way his body is tensed, ready to move at a moments notice. Good. There must be a strong set of survival instincts, to make it through what can too often be a cruel world.  
  
Before the sun rises, the young man leaves, a shadow vanishing beneath the waves, but not without a gift for Ardyn: his name. _Prompto._  
  
It's three nights before Prompto returns, and Ardyn finds him once again perched atop the rock inside the little cove, skin still wet and glistening from the water. He's surprised, to see Ardyn there still, but this time more of the earlier caution has been replaced with curiosity. There's some trust there now, he thinks.  
  
And so they start to talk, to really talk, now, and Ardyn learns that there is so much more to Prompto, than simply what he saw on that first encounter. The quiet, wary, youth is gone, replaced now with a wide eyed, curious young man filled with questions. Ardyn surprises himself with how willing he is to answer them all, and honestly, too. It's as if something within those wide, blue eyes compel him to the truth, to attempt to slip out from under the weight of a two thousand year old persona.  
  
“So,” Prompto says, speaks all in a rush, as he stares down at Ardyn from his spot on the rock, “I gotta know. I've seen people just, uh, staring at these things, when they're lying down by the shore? Lot's of people too. It's like,” and he stops, huffs a little, as he tries to demonstrate, not having the words to describe what he means. “Just staring, for ages, you know? What _are_ those things?”  
  
It takes a moment for Ardyn to put the question together with the demonstration, to realise that Prompto is trying to mime reading a book. It's this, more than anything else so far, that really endears this creature, this young man, to him. Bright eyed and so eager to learn all he can about a world he's only observed from a distance. There's so much to tell him, Ardyn thinks, so very many things to delight Prompto with. He thrills at the thought.  
  
“Those are called books,” Ardyn answers, and Prompto listens in earnest as Ardyn explains paper and reading and stories to him.  
  
“Do you have one of these books on you?” Prompto asks. His eyes dim a little, when Ardyn shakes his head.  
  
“But, I can bring you some, to show you.”  
  
Prompto smiles, bright and wide and full of warmth. A warmth that manages to penetrate even Ardyn's hardened outside. He has a terrible, dawning suspicion, that perhaps he's going to end up doing all sorts of things he wouldn't normally do, just to encourage that smile again in future.  
  
It isn't nearly all of the questions Prompto has, though, and he fills the air around them, fills the small cove, with as many of them as he can get out. Now that he has a willing audience, a source of knowledge, it's as if every little thought he's had about humans and the world rises to the surface.  
  
There must be an element of magic within Prompto somewhere, a charm to his words, Ardyn thinks, as he pulls off one of his boots to show Prompto what 'human tentacles' look like.  
  
“Ew,” Prompto says, staring at Ardyn's toes as they wriggle loosely in the sand. “They're kinda gross.” His own tentacles writhe lightly beneath him, against the surface of the rock, never quite still. Ardyn's taken to thinking of the movements as the equivalent of drumming fingers, or a twitching leg, though far more hypnotic. He doesn't mean to stare, really.

“Aren't they?” Ardyn agrees, before putting his sock and boot back on. “No elegance or grace in them, really. We're all of us merely clumsy clods, ambulating from one destination to another.”

At Prompto's look of confusion, Ardyn tries to wave away the small coils of hatred, and smiles at him. “Walking, I mean.” When Prompto continues to look confused, Ardyn pushes himself from the ground, dusts himself off, and begins to walk within the small space of the cove.

“This is walking. One foot in front of the other. It's how we generally get about.”

“Ohhh.” Prompto drags the sound out, watches with wide-eyed interest. “So that's what you call it! But,” and he frowns a little. “How do you, uh, stay up, all the time? Without falling over?”  
  
Ardyn laughs. It's a sound he hasn't, he suddenly realises, made in a very long time. A genuine, warm, shot of laughter. Not at Prompto, never at him. It's more, a sudden warmth that makes its way out despite himself. As he quickly assures Prompto that he isn't laughing at him, and no, Prompto _isn't_ stupid, and tries to explain things he's never had to explain before, Ardyn begins to realise that he's quite endeared to this man now. With his earnest fascination at every new piece of knowledge, with his endless questions, and this easy nature he's settled into, now that there's some trust there. It's impossible, really, not to be drawn in by this wondrous creature, this sweet natured young man.

Oh, dear.

–

When Ardyn returns to the island, he has books for Prompto, wrapped carefully to protect from the water. Quite a change has been affected in him, he knows, that he thinks nothing about rowing himself to and from this little island any more.  
  
When he finds Prompto, settled in his spot atop the rock, he stares at Ardyn with an emotion Ardyn can't quite read. It's unsettling.  
  
“What's wrong?” Ardyn asks.  
  
“You...you came back,” Prompto says.  
  
“But of course,” he says easily, relaxing a little now that it seems nothing is truly wrong. He holds a book up, to show Prompto. “I brought you some books.”  
  
Prompto's face lights up, then. Ardyn finds himself smiling in return, an uncomfortable fit on his face; he hasn't smiled genuinely in...well, he can't remember when. Years beyond count.

Ardyn settles himself on the ground – strangely mindless of sand and dirt on his clothes – and Prompto slides down from the rock, shuffles over, a little awkwardly on land, to sit beside him. It's the closest Ardyn has yet been to him, and he finds the idea of it...momentarily diverting. But then Prompto's excited questions pull his mind away, and he begins answering them in earnest.  
  
Prompto is fascinated by the pictures in some of the books, and confused, but intrigued, by the words. He likes the stories that Ardyn reads from them, very much. There's princes and queens, dragons, wizards, magic and duels, scattered throughout them. There are prophecies, holy relics, omens of doom. Things he has no real concept or understanding of, but Ardyn answers each of his questions, tries to give this seemingly isolated man some concept of a world beyond him.

He feels the presence of Prompto's lower body, pressed lightly against his own. Is certain he can feel the slow, undulating motions of some of those tentacles, never truly still, it seems. It's oddly relaxing.  
  
“Could you...” Prompto's hand reaches towards the book, his fingers tracing hesitantly across words he can't read. He looks up into Ardyn's face. “Could you teach me...this?”  
  
“To read?”  
  
Prompto nods.  
  
Ardyn has not the patience, the desire, or the liking for anyone much, to teach a skill someone lacks. And yet, he opens his mouth and answers without pause, “Why of course.”

–

It is, perhaps, a good thing that Ardyn has little to tie him to the world as a whole, because he finds himself spending many of his days in conversation with Prompto. There is no one to miss his presence, out there in the wider world. A thought that might give some pause for sad reflection, but the way Prompto greets Ardyn every time, a wide, easy smile, an excited shout of Ardyn's name, there's little room for sadness.  
  
There might be no one to miss him out there, but here is where things are truly beginning to matter, and, though Ardyn might not readily believe this of himself, Prompto would miss him. They have an understanding now.

“You're joking!” Prompto stares at him, in that wary way of someone who doesn't know whether to laugh along with a joke, or take it seriously. To be honest, that's a favourite past time of Ardyn's, though not in this particular moment.

“I swear,” he says, a hand gesturing towards his own heart. If he were speaking to anyone else, it would mean nothing. “I'm being serious. There are all sorts of rumours and dire warnings, abounding the world, about your existence.”

“Like what?”

Ardyn sits, propped up against the trunk of a large tree, Prompto's head nestled comfortably in his lap. The beach spreads out beyond them, the soft rustling of the tide the only other sound besides themselves to slip through the darkness. Ardyn glances down at Prompto's face, sees the light that shines within, the amusement, the curiosity, gazing back up at him. The rest of Prompto's body sprawls comfortably against the sand.  
  
“Oh, all sorts,” he says, almost lazily, although his eyes flash with amusement also. “A fearsome monster of the deep, huge and hideous, just waiting to steal away children and virgins! All those poor, sacrificed humans, that the ten different versions of you must have eaten.”  
  
Prompto looks shocked, before he almost chokes on the laughter that overtakes him. “Eating people? Why would I eat people? Gross!”  
  
“I can assure you, 'gross' indeed.”

That's enough to stop the laughter. “No way. _Now_ you're joking.”  
  
Ardyn smiles, pats Prompto's head affectionately. It soon turns into fingers threading loosely, thoughtlessly, through soft strands of blond hair. He almost feels the way a few of Prompto's tentacles twitch against the sand in pleasure. He imagines it to be like when a cat purrs, perhaps. “Now you've impressed me, my dear.” It slips out, without thought, all too easily.  
  
Prompto falls into a contemplative silence for a few moments, before looking to Ardyn again. “Ardyn? I know what children are – the little humans – but, uh, what's a virgin, and why would I want any?”

If Ardyn was easily embarrassed, now would be when he might blush. He's taught Prompto a lot, in the time since they became friends, but this has never cropped up. As it is, he's always been more prone to amusement, over embarrassment. So he laughs, and wonders at why this should have surprised him; Prompto questions _everything_.

“It's a common trope amongst myths and legends, for vicious monsters to desire the purity and wholesomeness of a virgin. And that, to be plain, is someone who's never had sex before.” Ardyn has no real idea what Prompto might know of this, all he knows really, about Prompto's background, is his being isolated and left alone, when he was younger. About the age of a teenager or so, Ardyn imagines, and this particular subject may have slipped between those years of isolation.  
  
“Uh...”  
  
“When two people come together, usually to make children. But also for mutual enjoyment.”  
  
Two points of colour begin to spread high across Prompto's cheeks. He's very clearly _not_ looking up at Ardyn. Fingers are still brushing easily through his hair. “Oh...I see.”

 _Do you?_ Ardyn wonders, but instead he turns the conversation back towards the starting point, and says, “And those outlandish tales are exactly why I had to come and investigate this monster for myself. What do you say, are you particularly vicious and bloodthirsty?”  
  
Neither vicious or bloodthirsty are words that would come to Ardyn's mind when thinking of Prompto, especially now, as he all but sinks into the sand as Ardyn's fingers scratch lightly against his scalp.

The question seems to draw the blush from Prompto's cheeks, and he looks at Ardyn again. “I once accidentally stepped on a mollusc and felt guilty for days!”  
  
Ardyn laughs at that. He does it a lot now, he's realising. He can't help it.

“How very fearsome you are!”  
  
They stay like this for some time, Ardyn's fingers in Prompto's hair, one of Prompto's hands resting lightly over Ardyn's leg, simply enjoying the stillness of the night, and the good company.  
  
It's Prompto – it's always Prompto – who breaks the silence first. “I can't believe people think I'm a monster.”  
  
“Oh, hush now. They've never even met you. No one who has could think such a thing.”  
  
The blush colours Prompto's cheeks again. His tentacles twitch.  
  
“They aren't talking about _you_ , anyway,” Ardyn continues. “Rather, an imaginary creature some foolish human has dreamt up. There's always far more large teeth or spikes or evil, glowing red eyes, in these stories, and you have none of those.”  
  
Prompto considers those points. Eventually, he says, “Would be kinda cool though, right?” He meets Ardyn's gaze with a grin.  
  
“Oh, dear. Don't come over all monstrous on me now. What would I do?”  
  
If by 'monstrous' Ardyn meant for Prompto to carefully dip the tip of one, cool-skinned tentacle beneath the collar of his shirt, and laughing at the resulting squirm of surprise, then he was exactly right.  
  
“You beast!” he declares, as Prompto flops against the sand, laughing helplessly.

–

Ardyn can tell straight away that there's something on Prompto's mind, when he rises from the waves like the beautiful being that he is, and flops his way inelegantly across the little sandy beach. It's in the way his eyes look tired and concerned, his lips pulled thin. Thoughts circling round his head. Ardyn wishes to reach forward, smooth those concerns away with his fingers.  
  
Instead, he allows for Prompto to settle against him, as has become their custom. He's a warm, necessary weight, as he all but snuggles beside Ardyn. He's long become accustomed by now, to not worry himself about the sand and the dampness from Prompto's still wet body, against his clothes, to bother him. There are worse things, Ardyn reminds himself. Like endless centuries of solitude. He'll allow his sense of fashion and propriety to suffer a little.  
  
He let's Prompto raise his concerns in his own time, happy to just let the night wash over them, and wait.  
  
His mind wonders, as Prompto just breathes beside him. How very far they've come during their time knowing each other. This trust that has grown, this friendship, and this... what, physical affection, that's grown alongside it, also.  
  
It's strange, for Ardyn, a man who's spent years not forming any deep, lasting relationships. It's probably strange for Prompto too, he considers, who's been on his own for some years, too. So it's become a new thing for them both, discovering how a touch, fingers through hair or arms around the waist, can feel like the entire world. It makes Prompto light up, every time.  
  
After a time, Prompto sighs.  
  
“Is something amiss?” Ardyn ventures eventually.  
  
“I just...I was thinking,” Prompto starts, looks briefly up at Ardyn, before away again.  
  
It's a cheap one, but Ardyn says it anyway, “Oh, a dangerous habit, that.”  
  
Prompto offers only a weak smile in return.  
  
Ardyn sets aside the jokes. He can be serious, when he needs to be. Well, he can be serious when _Prompto_ needs him to be. “What's bothering you, my dear?” He wonders, just vaguely, where this side of him has come from. He's not seen it for such an age.

He settles an arm around Prompto's shoulder, pulls him closer. Let's out a long, low, sigh, as one of Prompto's arms winds around Ardyn's waist in turn. He feels a couple tentacles make their way around him as part of the hug, as well. Ardyn thinks nothing of it.  
  
“You're,” Prompto starts again, “well...you're gonna leave one day, right?”  
  
Ardyn is genuinely surprised to hear that. The thought hasn't even crossed his mind, not since that first night, seeing Prompto in the flickering light of his flame. “Why do you think that?” He can't even cover his surprise,  
  
“I mean...” Prompto looks at Ardyn, flicks one of his tentacles in a kind of _look-at-this-place_ gesture. “There's, uh, there's nothing for you here, really.”  
  
“Prompto.” Ardyn's almost stern, in his seriousness now. He wants Prompto to believe him, as he says: “You are here. That's all I desire.”  
  
“But...”  
  
Ardyn shushes him gently. “It's true. We're friends, aren't we?” He's had to teach Prompto many things, the word for the closeness Prompto declared one day he suddenly felt for Ardyn being one of them. The basic gist of friends, and friendship, and what it means. So when Prompto nods, it's with understanding.  
  
“And friends wish to spend time together. There's no reason for me to leave.”  
  
One day, Ardyn thinks, he might tell Prompto more about himself. About how Prompto's the first person he's met in centuries that makes Ardyn feel less alone. Someone who shares some sense of...not being quite human, with him. Not being part of the greater world out there. But not this day.  
  
It seems enough to satisfy Prompto, for now. Though his arms and tentacles tighten their hold, just a touch, around Ardyn, for some time after.

–

“Is this...is this okay?”  
  
“Perfectly,” Ardyn assures him.  
  
The sun is beginning its descent, painting the sky above them an almost pinkish colour. The air is warm around them, the sea is still, and it feels, for all the world, as if nothing exists but the two of them. It may as well as not, because the only thing that occupies Ardyn's mind just then is Prompto, his sweet, freckled face, his touch against his skin. Prompto is everything, just now.

It's a light, almost cautious touch, as Prompto's fingers trail across Ardyn's face. Tracing a slow, barely-there path across his cheeks, along his jaw. It's almost reverential, and it leaves Ardyn feeling strange and breathless.  
  
“I don't really understand this,” Prompto admits, laughing softly at himself. Ardyn's lips twitch up into a smile. Prompto's fingers follow their curve. This is the boldest Prompto has yet been, but Ardyn's glad Prompto's the one who started this first.

“Tell me,” Ardyn prompts. “Maybe I can enlighten you.” He probably can't, he's hardly a beacon of knowledge regarding this, but Prompto doesn't know that. And as Ardyn has learnt, all Prompto needs is a little encouragement, a little boost of confidence, for some things.

His fingers slip beneath Ardyn's chin, take a few moments to just rub against the stubble there, before they continue their journey of discovery down his neck. When Prompto's fingers reach the juncture between neck and shoulder, Ardyn, inadvertently, shudders a little. It's been...well, he doesn't remember how long it's been, and that alone means too long.  
  
“Are you-”  
  
“Fine,” Ardyn answers. “Wonderful. No need to stop, dear.”  
  
A warm flush of colour spreads across Prompto's cheeks at the endearment. It happens every time Ardyn does it, so of course, he endeavours to do it more. Prompto looks so charming when embarrassed. His fingers still, though remain warm and light against Ardyn's skin.  
  
“What do you wish to understand?” Ardyn asks again, tries to bring Prompto back to this. And his own thoughts, while he's at it. He doesn't wish to frighten Prompto away. Doesn't want to become overwhelmed.  
  
“Well,” Prompto begins, and the hesitation sinks away, as he begins to try to piece together the words and feelings, to describe to Ardyn. He can see it in Prompto's face, is used to the thoughtful frown that creases his forehead. A part of Ardyn hopes that Prompto might never fully understand all the world holds within it, so that he'll never lose these moments between them. A selfish thought, perhaps, but Ardyn has never really pretended to be otherwise. It's only Prompto, with his charming curiosity and sunny disposition, who is capable of pulling some of the older parts of Ardyn to the surface, parts of himself he hasn't seen, or thought of, in centuries.  
  
Those fingers, too, are drawing parts of Ardyn forward, as Prompto rubs absent-minded circles across Ardyn's neck and shoulders. He tries instead to focus on what Prompto's so clearly about to divulge to him.  
  
“I just, uh...” his cheeks flush a little, as he meets Ardyn's eyes. “I don't really know how to explain it?” But as Ardyn only waits, silent and patient, Prompto sucks in a breath and tries to continue. “I just, I keep having these feelings. Like, I just want to be close to you. Touch you. And, uh...” he looks away, cheeks flaming now. “Have you touch me, too.”  
  
It's a command Ardyn can't help but obey, not when uttered so sweetly, so shyly. He covers Prompto's hand with his own.  
  
He can feel the small shiver that runs down Prompto's body, feels it in the twitch of fingers beneath his.  
  
“Is...is that strange?” Prompto asks, spares Ardyn another glance.  
  
Ardyn shakes his head. “Not at all. My dear...” he pauses, not only to think - because he needs a moment, this is important, and Prompto needs to understand this - but to try and swallow down the sudden dryness within his mouth. “Many people feel like that towards others. It's called attraction.” At Prompto's curious look, Ardyn tries again to think of how to best make this clear.  
  
“You remember,” he starts again, after a moment, “that book we read together? About the knight and the princess, who eventually married after all their troubles.” At Prompto's nod, Ardyn continues, “Well, it's somewhat like that. How they felt about each other.”  
  
Prompto nods again, although Ardyn feels like he's done a terrible job explaining things. And, as selfish and thoughtless as he has been for most of his life now, this is one thing that he will not take for himself, not if Prompto doesn't truly understand. As much as his heart yearns for it, with their fingers tangled loosely together. He won't allow himself to do a thing to hurt the only friend he has on this accursed planet. The only person he has truly cared about for millennia.  
  
He sighs, and decides to try being more direct, instead.

–

Their first kiss is sweet, rather awkward, but endlessly endearing, just as Prompto himself is, and Ardyn thinks nothing can be more fitting.  
  
Their second kiss goes a little better, is just as sweet, but less clumsy as they begin to learn how to fit themselves together.  
  
By the third kiss, they have it all worked out. Between the soft, insistent press of their lips, Ardyn finds himself again. Pieces of who he used to be, all those years ago, slipping to fit between the pieces of who the years have moulded him to be. As easily as Prompto's lips slip between his own, his shyness replaced now with enthusiasm. It makes Ardyn feel a strange mix of old and young all at once. Until Prompto swipes his tongue along Ardyn's lower lip, and the sudden pounding of his heart inside his own head drowns out all other than this; them; _Prompto_.  
  
They're wrapped up almost impossibly tight together, and, Ardyn thinks to himself, how no one else in this world could hold him quite like Prompto can. There are arms wound around Ardyn's neck, to keep their faces close as they kiss. But there's more, too, and Ardyn feels tentacles wind around him as well, hold him and hug him. Around his waist, a shoulder, twined around his forearm. He's never been held this close before, and something about that makes his blood thrum hotly through his veins.  
  
They go slowly, though. Because all of this is new to Prompto, and because Ardyn feels, unusually for himself, quite suddenly out of his depth. That, and he wishes to savour every moment together, every new discovery for them both. There's no need to rush, they have all the time in the world, especially when the world has narrowed down to just the two of them.  
  
So they kiss, a lot, and Ardyn let's Prompto explore and discover things at his own pace.  
  
And Prompto does discover. He touches Ardyn, let's his fingers and his palms and his tentacles journey across Ardyn's body. Explores with his lips and tongue and teeth. Every time he's unsure about something, he looks up at Ardyn, curious, questioning, beneath his lashes. And every time Ardyn sighs, or breathes out a yes, calls Prompto _'darling'_ and shivers beneath the next press of fingers or lips against his skin.

They go no further that night than sharing gentle touches and warm kisses. And even so Ardyn is sure that, after an eternity, he sees stars again, every time their lips meet.

–

It's a new experience for Ardyn, something he's never felt before. A feat, certainly, to find something he's not done, during his almost two thousand years of wondering the planet. And yet, this is one of them. It's more than that, though. Even as the thought passes through his mind, he knows it's more than simply an experience.

Just now, it's also heat. And a hard, throbbing ache. He feels an uncomfortable tightness in his trousers. He hasn't felt like this in...well, a very long time. Prompto seems almost an expert at doing that by now, though, making Ardyn do and feel and experience things he'd long forgotten all about.

Arms are wound around his waist, a tentacle strokes lightly at the back of his neck, a strange yet wonderful touch, Ardyn thinks. Prompto's skin is warm beneath his lips, as he scatters greedy kisses down along Prompto's neck. He feels the hitch of breath beneath the press of his tongue. “Oh, my sweet,” he murmurs, feels Prompto shiver in his arms at the endearment. Ardyn drops more upon him, raining affection down between each kiss. And there are many kisses to be given, because Prompto's neck is so smooth and enticing, and then there's that spot where neck and shoulder meet, and a well placed tongue will drive the breath from Prompto's body in the most delightful way. Then, of course, there's the curve of Prompto's shoulders, impossible to ignore, and Ardyn has to try and kiss each and every freckle scattered across Prompto's skin there.  
  
“You,” he whispers, before he licks a trail along Prompto's collarbone, “are far too enticing, my love.”  
  
He feels Prompto shake, hears the breathy little laugh Prompto tends to make, when something feels good but also tickles a bit. Ardyn's making it a personal mission of his to slowly discover all of the spots that make Prompto do that.  
  
“No...” Prompto says, self-conscious.  
  
Ardyn nips playfully at the curve of his shoulder. “Yes.”  
  
He feels a tight hold wind itself around his shoulders, feels Prompto pull them closer. Being held like this by Prompto, by all of him, is still new to Ardyn, and wonderful every time. Strange to some, perhaps, but he adores all of Prompto, and feeling more than just fingers stroke, caress, and touch him in places is, simply, incredible.  
  
Whilst tentacles wrap around him, touch him, Prompto's hands move to Ardyn's shoulders, pluck loosely at the hooded cape settled across Ardyn's shoulders.

“You wear so much of this clothing,” Prompto says, looking at him curiously. “Does everyone always wear this much?”  
  
“Sadly, it's become rather uncommon to be quite as stylish as I am,” Ardyn laments. His eyes shine with the smile he hides.

He plucks again at the hooded cape. “What _is_ this?”  
  
Ardyn, unable to resist, slides a hand down the side of Prompto's body, grins to himself when Prompto shudders at the ticklish sensation. “A hood,” he answers. “To protect from the rain.”  
  
Prompto looks confused by this. “What's wrong with getting wet?”  
  
Ardyn laughs, because of course Prompto, half a creature of the sea after all, can't understand why others would be bothered by some rain. It's eternally endearing. “It can be mildly inconvenient. And,” he adds, “can ruin a perfectly well done hairdo.” He gives an unconscious flick of his hair at the thought.  
  
Prompto's eyes widen, not a hint of real understanding, as his fingers tug the hood to cover Ardyn's head. “Weird.”  
  
Reaching for Prompto's hand, Ardyn takes hold of it, and leans in to press a warm, promising kiss to Prompto's lips. He almost feels Prompto melt against him. “Just take it off, dear,” he whispers against Prompto's lips. “We can discuss its merits later.”  
  
With one hand still caught between Ardyn's, Prompto reaches out with two of his tentacles instead, curls them beneath the weird hood thing, and pulls it off of Ardyn. It hardly makes a difference, however, with all the other layers Ardyn's still wearing. Habit more than anything, really. Also, style is an ambition many in this day and age sadly seem to lack.  
  
“And this, it's a...coat?”  
  
“Correct,” Ardyn says, his words turning almost into a soft sigh, as those two tentacles push the heavy, weighty garment from his shoulders. He doesn't bat an eye, when it drops to the ground beneath him. “For warmth, usually. And style, mostly.”

Prompto's eyes widen, when he gets a proper look at what Ardyn's still wearing beneath the coat. To a man who clothes are an unfamiliar thing, Ardyn must seem excessive.

“How many clothes do you _need_?”  
  
Ardyn pretends to look and sound tragic, even as his fingers trace a path along Prompto's collarbone. “Something I fear you may never understand.”  
  
“Nope,” Prompto agrees cheerfully.  
  
He feels a gentle pull at the red scarf wound around his neck. “A scarf,” he says, in answer to the unasked question. “For warmth.”  
  
The scarf soon joins the coat upon the ground. Fingers, and more, now trail along Ardyn's shoulders, and even through the fabric of his shirt, his skin shivers beneath those touches.  
  
“Are you always cold or something?”  
  
“Now? Not in the slightest.”  
  
Prompto's laughter is almost breathless, as Ardyn's palms smooth over his torso, his fingers _accidentally_ grazing across Prompto's nipples.  
  
“Good,” Prompto manages, as he looks into Ardyn's face, delight and arousal filling his own in a way that's starting to make it difficult for Ardyn to breathe properly, also. “Because I'm trying to make this even between us.”  
  
“Oh?” Ardyn asks, as if it hasn't been obvious from the start, but he does love witnessing the colour that spreads across Prompto's cheeks at moments like this. Delightful.

Prompto ignores it, in favour of removing more of Ardyn's ridiculous clothing. His fingers reach for the next item. “And this?” He asks, hands on Ardyn's waistcoat.  
  
It requires Ardyn's help, fingers loosening the buckles and ties, as he describes the merits of a well fitted waistcoat. Prompto's hardly listening, and really, Ardyn can hardly blame him. He's only half aware of the words he's speaking, most of his attention being bent on Prompto, on touching him, kissing him, how it feels when Prompto touches him in return. His entire world has narrowed down to this wonderful, beautiful creature before him and, Ardyn realises, has done for quite some time now. A thought that might once have bothered him, does not. How can it, when all Ardyn feels, in this moment, is warmth and affection, and the underlying thrum of desire that's been beating through him steadily since all of this began.  
  
It only heightens, when Prompto slips the fingerless gloves from Ardyn's hands, and lays a gentle kiss against the inside of each wrist when he's done. He's almost certain he can also hear the unsteady staccato beating of Prompto's heart, over his own.  
  
Ardyn's boots are next, and this entire process nearly dissolves, when Prompto curls up into a small fit of laughter, as he studies the strange complexities of Ardyn's boots. “What is all this?” He all but wheezes, “socks for your shoes?”  
  
It takes Ardyn a nip at Prompto's earlobe, a swipe of his tongue just behind his ear, to get Prompto to stop laughing; turns the sound into a stifled, breathy little gasp that works its way down Ardyn's body.  
  
But the boots are soon gone, and Prompto's resolve has returned.  
  
It's the most intimate experience Ardyn can genuinely remember ever having, and certainly the most thorough undressing he's ever had. It doesn't help, either, that there have been many breaks between items of clothing, breaks for kissing, touching, whispering sweet words to each other – though that, admittedly, is mostly Ardyn, because Prompto looks so pleased, and colours so pleasantly, every single time.

When Prompto curls the tips of two tentacles beneath the hem of Ardyn's shirt, there are no more questions. Prompto can't even pretend he doesn't know what the basics are, and by now, they're both a little too worked up for in depth conversation. Prompto's breath falls heavily across Ardyn's chest, when it's finally bared of shirt _and_ under-shirt (Prompto laughs at that, the sound rippling down Ardyn's spine like a song). Ardyn's own breath falls out as a quiet sigh, when lips meet his bare skin. This, this has been such a very long time for him.  
  
As fingers run through Ardyn's hair, a tentacle smooths over the broad spread of his shoulders, and Prompto explores the rest with his lips and his tongue. Ardyn finds himself almost melting, as Prompto presses a tongue against one of his nipples. It's all still done in that cautious, exploratory way Prompto has, but, Ardyn's certain he's making enough noises of encouragement, enough declarations of enjoyment, that Prompto eventually settles into this journey with an enthusiasm and vigour that leaves Ardyn hot and aching.  
  
He is so very, very far from a passive participant, however. He's happy to let Prompto roam and explore with fingers and mouth and tentacles, but he doesn't neglect Prompto. He rests a hand against the small of Prompto's back, right where the body of the man melts so perfectly into the body of an octopus, and he discovers that this seems to be a sensitive spot for his sweet creature.  
  
“Oh!” Prompto gasps, eyes widening, as his body leans into Ardyn's touch, lips momentarily distracted from their objective.  
  
“Interesting...” Ardyn murmurs. His hand sweeps a slow, steady path up the length of Prompto's spine, and he feels every shudder and shiver beneath his fingers as they pass.  
  
“No fair.”  
  
“Oh, my love,” Ardyn says, his smile wide, “I never promised you I would play fair.”  
  
As fingers curl around the waistband of his trousers, Ardyn wonders if Prompto's already learning lessons from him, because it feels most unfair, the slow, almost agonising way he works the trousers down and off of him, palm rubbing seemingly accidentally against Ardyn's now prominent erection. It pulls a proper sound from him, a surprised kind of gasp, and Ardyn's reminded, almost painfully, how long _this_ has been, since anyone, even himself, has touched him so intimately. How long it's been since he's even felt any kind of desire and arousal at all.  
  
And here is Prompto in all his beautiful sweetness, blue eyes gazing down at Ardyn as if he's everything in the world. How couldn't he be awakened to these delights?  
  
Funny, though, because the way Prompto looks down at him, is the way Ardyn has grown to feel for Prompto himself, over time.  
  
As Prompto looks at him, his cheeks begin to turn that delightful shade of pink that Ardyn cherishes so much.  
  
“What is it?” He asks, trailing his fingers lightly over Prompto's body, just touching for the sake of touching.  
  
“You look so...” Prompto pauses, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “I don't know the word.”  
  
“Handsome?” Ardyn supplies. “Magnificent? A vision to behold?”

Prompto laughs, and shakes his head. He's distracted from whatever he's trying to say, with the way Ardyn's hands run over his body, pulling the most pleasant sensations to the forefront of his thoughts.  
  
And then, his hand settles to rest on Ardyn's abdomen, just above the line of his underwear. Prompto swallows thickly. Ardyn waits, still, because, no matter how much he wants this, how hard he can feel himself throbbing between his legs by now, this move is down to Prompto. He won't take anything, only too gladly receive what's willing to be given.  
  
Prompto smiles at him then, and despite the darkness of the night that enshrouds them, it feels almost like a brief glimpse of brilliant sunshine and blue skies. And then Ardyn's underwear is sent to join the pile of his other, poorly discarded, clothes. Ardyn is hardly worrying about the dry cleaning bill, however. How can he, when Prompto is looking at him in such wide-eyed wonder, curious and aroused himself.

As Prompto seems suddenly unsure of what to do next, Ardyn reaches out, hooks an arm around Prompto's shoulders and pulls them down together, their mouths meeting in a heated, eager kiss, that Prompto is all too willing to give himself over to. It's exactly the thing to do, and Ardyn can feel Prompto's chest, heaving for breath, against his own.

What is a new experience for Ardyn, is also one for Prompto, and they take things slowly. It's almost infuriating, because now that Ardyn's been brought to this point, experiencing it all again after decades, centuries, maybe, he's aching and he's hot and it's almost painful, the level of his need and desire. But it's almost an exquisite torture, in a way, because watching Prompto delight in every little thing is its own kind of reward.  
  
Like the sound Prompto makes, one of surprise and interest, when the way his fingers touching just _so_ make Ardyn's cock twitch visibly.  
  
“Oh!”  
  
It's rather more than just a feeling of _oh_ for Ardyn, however, and a deep shudder runs the length of his body, as Prompto touches and explores. There's something so breathtakingly intimate, Ardyn thinks, about them making their way through this together, both experiencing new and different things like this. He feels his chest swell. With an arm around Prompto's waist, he pulls him in for another kiss, unable to resist when Prompto looks so particularly delectable, his lips, his neck, his shoulders, just asking to be showered in kisses. Who is Ardyn to deny this simple request, really.  
  
The list of things they both begin to learn, about themselves and each other, only grows from there. Prompto learns – to the flaming colour that fans his cheeks – that a mouth against the skin of his back and shoulders does all kinds of things to him, and Ardyn can tell, by the way Prompto squirms and shivers and shudders beneath the press of his body above. Can tell by the way some of Prompto's tentacles contract and twitch against Ardyn's skin, like fingers pressing into him in sudden rushes of pleasure. Ardyn suddenly makes it his entire existences mission to have all of Prompto squirming and gasping beneath him. Between his fingers, tongue, and sweet words, Ardyn makes short work of it, and there is Prompto, sprawled across the ground beneath Ardyn, straddling his waist, a writhing, moaning, mess of flustered and gasping pleasure. His tentacles squirm against the ground, against Ardyn's skin, everywhere all at once.  
  
“You are breathtaking,” Ardyn says, almost marvelling at the sight before him, as Prompto gazes up at him in starry-eyed wonder. “Magnificent. Offering me these endless delights.”

Prompto's blush is almost furious now, the colour crawling down across his neck. Ardyn leans in to lick his way across the spread of colour, and Prompto writhes beneath him again. He feels a tentacle twitching in place, against the small of his back, just above the swell of Ardyn's body, and the touch, the direction his thoughts are running, are enough to steal his breath away, leave him throbbing, where he's pressed firmly against Prompto's stomach. He's certain, by the sound Prompto makes, he can feel that pulse of desire that runs through Ardyn, too.

“My dear, sweet, Prompto.” His voice is almost entirely breaths and whispers, by then, as he kisses the words against Prompto's skin.

As the long night wanes around them, time lost to all else, as they indulge in each other, and pleasure, Ardyn learns many, many new things. A joy to a tired and cynical mind, to one who thought he'd experienced almost all life and the world has to offer in his thousands of years of living. But this, he knows, he's never done or felt before. There's nothing quite like it, Ardyn thinks, his mind soon lost to this heady, overwhelming feeling of being filled, intimately, unusually, exquisitely, in a way that only Prompto can fill him. There's more, too, fingers and tentacles, touching and stroking him all over, learning fast what to do, where Ardyn likes to be touched, how to pull those deep, ragged groans from him, the ones that have Prompto pulsing and twitching, inside Ardyn.  
  
He's certainly never been this close, this truly entwined, with another person. Knows that no one else but Prompto will ever be capable of making him feel like this, either.

Ardyn loses himself utterly to these feelings, to this man, to his body, and knows, with the way fingers and tentacles grip at him, that Prompto too, is unravelling, gives everything he has to offer in turn to Ardyn. They give themselves to each other, bodies rocking together, and Ardyn knows, later, that he's most certainly never felt anything quite like it before.  
  
By the time the sun rises to fill them with it's early morning warmth, they lay together, breathless but happy, Prompto held tightly in Ardyn's arms, and Ardyn held tightly between a few of Prompto's tentacles. This, he thinks, he'll never tire of, having so much of Prompto to revel in.  
  
And, he thinks, as he feels the light, easy twitch of a tentacle, stroking lazy circles against his abdomen, there's so much still for them to discover with each other. Endless delights, indeed.  
  
In all his years, steeped in all his bored, bitter, cynicism, Ardyn has never imagined that he might once again feel so relaxed and easy. Happy. A monster indeed, Prompto is, because he has stolen something, and taken it to the depths. And little does Ardyn care, really, because it wasn't as if he was using his heart for himself, anyway.  
  
Prompto, he thinks, as he leans in to press a kiss to that spot between neck and shoulder, is most welcome to keep it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, the entire prompt on the km was this: _Sometime in that 2,000 years he's wandering around, Ardyn hears a rumor about a monster in the sea. Naturally he has to investigate. Instead of the beast he's expecting, he finds a sweet-natured, curious, exuberant young man who happens to be half-octopus. They make friends and fall for one another. Who's Ardyn to judge, after all? He's not exactly human either._  
>  _Besides, there aren't a lot of truly unique experiences for him these days. Getting tentadicked is definitely new._
> 
> Anon, if you see this, I hope I could do your prompt service, because it was adorable and this was a lot of fun to write!  
> I'm on tumblr @hyperstorms if you, uh, wanna talk to me/befriend me after this weirdness!


End file.
